


Fulfilling the Needs of the One (Or the Both)

by plaidshirtjimkirk



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Space Husbands, old married spirk, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock begins to wonder if his relationship with Jim has been one-sided in his own favor.</p>
<p>An old married Spirk fic written for the K/S Valentine Calendar. This story actually started and evolved from this anonymous writing prompt on tumblr: "Old Married Spirk where Jim teaches classes at Starfleet and Spock is an ambassador. Spock goes to visit Jim in his office and finds a student with a bit of a teacher kink being a bit too forward with Jim. Spock finds a streak of possessiveness he didn't know he had." </p>
<p> <a href="https://ficbook.net/readfic/5699648/14649703">Russian Translation</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fulfilling the Needs of the One (Or the Both)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much to Elinat for translating this story into [Russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5699648/14649703). <3
> 
>  
> 
>   
> This incredible cover was drawn by [usscamelot](http://usscamelot.tumblr.com/).  
> 

There were excellent reasons why Spock preferred doing any necessary shopping early in the morning and they were, primarily: less people, less noise, less interaction. After all, he already had a human whom he saw every day and liked that particular one very much. He saw no reason for casually mingling with others to develop relationships unrelated to a professional nature because he found them, quite simply, needless.

As he understood from decades of working with others, friendship was all about sharing a plethora of different things which predominantly revolved around time, conversations, and feelings. To Spock, amassing a collection of individuals for that purpose seemed like a horrendously redundant idea. He already did such things with Jim and had absolutely no desire to do them with anyone else; therefore, it was only logical to avoid aimless interaction with others.

These thoughts weren't far from Spock's mind as he entered a large grocery store positively bustling with people in the early evening. Around noon, he had been sitting in his study, writing an extensive report for the molecular research project he was currently involved in, when Jim had commed asking for a “big favor.”

“Spock, look. I'm really sorry but I've been super busy today. I wasn't able to leave to buy wine for tonight,” Jim had said apologetically over background academy noise. “Do you think you could do me a big favor and pick one up from Dano's before you meet me here?”

Of course, Spock obliged. He would do anything for Jim, even if it meant braving a busy store at a peak hour.

Clad in a warm flowing overcoat that covered his tight fitting black trousers and a matching tunic he had purchased on Vulcan years ago, Spock walked through the establishment's double doors. Immediately, his sensitive ears were assaulted with loud talking, screaming children, and sounds of checkout devices. Attempting to ignore his surroundings as much as possible, he made a beeline for the liquor aisle, the messenger style bag slung about his shoulders swaying as he walked quickly.

Dark eyes scanned the shelves as he searched for Jim's preferred wine, and while he attempted to tune out all the cacophony buzzing around him, he could not help but overhear a conversation taking place between a pair of human women in the same aisle.

“Girl, you have no idea how excited I am for tonight!” the shorter brunette exclaimed to her friend as they browsed the shelves. “I'm giving him a titanium armband with our names lasered into it!”

Spock drifted a few steps forward, not seeing the wine he was looking for.

“Damn, Jenna! You really know how to treat him right,” the other woman replied, pausing to look at her before setting her sights back on the rack of bottles. “Shit, I was with S'marr for almost three years and I never got _anything_ from his cheap ass on Valentine's Day. I mean, Jesus. I put out for him and he couldn't give me the freakin' luxury of just one damn holiday.”

She reached forward and selected a round glass container of glowing green liquid. “And that's why, tonight, it's just me and this bottle of Cosmic Jäger.”

“I still don't know how you drink that shit,” her friend replied as they began walking off, their conversation fading in with the rest of the background noise.

Spock turned his head and one eyebrow slid upwards as he watched them disappear around a corner. Indeed, it was Valentine's Day, a centuries-old holiday that had become a boon for retail corporations in the 1900's. It was established as a day on which romantic partners focused on their love and acted kindly towards each other. Truthfully, Spock could not fathom the actual point to it because he and Jim always conducted themselves in that manner. Did other people really need a holiday to remind them to appreciate the mate they chose?

Spock's dress shoes hit the floor lightly as he continued his search. However, his thoughts began churning around the conversation he had heard. As illogical as it was, humans seemed to be increasingly sentimental over such things, going out of their ways to buy gifts as if to make tangible their feelings towards one another. As his dark eyes finally fell upon the bottle he searched for, Spock realized Jim was no exception.

Jim seemed to take immense pleasure in making a fuss over nothing when it came to him. He would sometimes come home with something to offer for no reason. It was often edible – usually, some sort of Vulcan sustenance from an exotic imports shop – but not always. In fact, one evening several weeks ago, Jim had randomly presented Spock with a quantum physics chip.

“Hey, Spock! I was down at the bookstore and I thought of you. Here!” Jim had said with a smile, depositing a PADD microchip within Spock's palm. When Spock inquired why Jim had purchased the item for him, his bondmate just shrugged his shoulders and said that he wanted to, the smile never retreating from his lips. ...Curious, illogical human, but precious all the same.

Taking the bottle of wine in his hand, Spock headed back across the store to the checkout area. As he walked, he saw multiple extravagant displays of suggested offerings: chocolate, stuffed animals, roses, and more. With each one he passed, he began to wonder if it would please Jim to receive a gift from him for the occasion. The only instance in which he purchased anything for the human in secrecy was on his birthday and that was a feat in itself.

Did Jim really need such reassurance? By nature, Spock felt he was very limited in the amount of outward affection he could offer – especially in a public venue – but surely Jim knew that he was irreplaceable and appreciated. Surely he, unlike other humans, didn't need a reminder.

Finally arriving at the checkout section, Spock paused and gazed over his shoulder, his dark brown eyes falling upon the impressive line of displays once more.

“ _I mean, Jesus. I put out for him and he couldn't give me the freakin luxury of just one damn holiday._ ”

~

It was a cold evening for San Francisco. The breeze drifting over from the bay only augmented that discomforting fact as it caused the air to feel chillier than it actually was. With the bottle of wine slipped into a brown paper bag and tucked beneath his arm, Spock briskly headed towards the academy, particularly thankful that it was only a fifteen minute walk from the grocery store.

His journey progressed uneventfully, but certainly full of thought. Before he found himself leaving the downtown sector, Spock was confronted by window display after window display of Valentine's Day marketing. Even the large screens installed around the streets for advertising purposes were running commercials for jewelry stores and other luxury items, implying anyone who didn't purchase such goods for his or her partner would surely be, as Terrans said, “sleeping on the couch that night.”

Spock's stiffened shoulders rose as he attempted to make himself feel warmer, the collar of his coat touching his angular jawlines. His eyes fell to the pavement as he began wondering why so many heavy thoughts came crashing into his mind suddenly.

He had seen the advertisements and displays many times over throughout his life, but had never questioned the necessity of purchasing anything for Jim. Jim, on the other hand, presented Spock with a small gift each year, and though he showed appreciation for the gesture, the Vulcan chalked it up to his bondmate just being human and sentimental. The thought of reciprocating the action never entered his mind, because the whole concept of Valentine's Day was entirely illogical.

But as he walked, Spock recalled the conversation between the two women he had overheard, and began to find himself questioning if the holiday really was as pointless as it seemed. From a corporate standpoint, it existed to generate a surge of consumer spending. However, from a cultural standpoint, it seemed to be more than just a reminder for people to appreciate one another.

Spock's hands were tucked into the oversized pockets of his coat as he looked up to see the academy with its numerous concrete stairs leading up to the entrance before him. The soft lights lining the walkways and coming from within the building appeared to glow almost magically against the darkening sky. He stopped in place, squinting his eyes slightly as he took in the view.

Did Jim feel unappreciated like that woman did because he never received anything from Spock? He never expressed any feelings of the sort, but was that because he was being tolerant of Vulcan culture which had no inclusion of the act of gifting?

Spock lowered his gaze again. Jim always went out of his way to prove that his bondmate was loved, even with knowing that Vulcan barriers would never fully allow Spock to acknowledge or reciprocate it in the same way outside of their bond. The woman from the store left the man she was with because her efforts to please him weren't returned to her satisfaction.

For the first time ever, Spock began to wonder if their relationship was one-sided from a human point of view, and if Jim was actually satisfied. As far as Vulcans were concerned, their bonding was flawlessly perfect, something rare and not often experienced between two mates. Along with their mental compatibility, the bond between Jim and Spock flourished past the use of simply being a crutch during Pon Farr; instead, it developed and deepened into an all-consuming, profound love.

But perhaps there were human needs at stake, needs that Spock had never addressed. Needs like acknowledging illogical holidays or holding hands in public... He began to wonder if Jim privately longed for these things but never spoke of them because Spock's heritage deemed them unnecessary.

The cold wracked his sensitive Vulcan body, and Spock shivered as the wind picked up again. He shook his head clear and began ascending the many steps to the entrance of the main academy building which would bring him warmth not only from the heat vents but Jim's presence.

~

The entrance hall to the academy was nothing short of impressive with its extravagant marble floors and transparent glass construction. The main doors opened into an expansive circular lobby with a large statue of the United Federation of Planets emblem in the center as a focal point. Looking up in the center of the room, one could see the glass roof and catch a glimpse of all the stories in the building, brightened by parallel glowing strips of white lights. During the day, the sun's rays streamed in through the high ceiling but in the evening, those soft accent lights provided just enough illumination to suggest an almost romantic feel.

Around the perimeter of the circular room were multiple passageways leading to different parts of the campus, each with a different crest hanging above its entrance to represent every career path in Starfleet. All entrances were secured by strong glass doors and guards stationed in shielded posts. Spock approached the hallway adorned with the Command emblem.

“Good evening, Ambassador Spock!” a cheery middle-aged man dressed in red Starfleet professional attire called out. He was sitting at a desk behind the glass surrounding him and spoke through a small microphone attached to his collar. “Captain Kirk mentioned you'd be coming by.”

Spock's face remained deadpan as he acknowledged the man with a quiet, “Good evening.” He proceeded to lift his hand and press his fingertips against a blue sensor on the wall. A small beep sounded and the blue light turned to green, confirming that his identity had been successfully verified. The glass doors opened automatically, permitting him entrance.

With a quick stride, he advanced through the silent corridor with perfect timing; it wouldn't be long until lessons were over and the space would be flooded by starving cadets racing to dinner. Reaching the lift bay, his hand fell over a small amber touch pad on the wall and called a platform. The door slid open and he stepped inside, choosing the twentieth floor.

As the lift took him up, Spock's eyes fell closed momentarily. He allowed himself to reach for the bond in his mind and felt the comfort of Jim's presence there but, for the first time ever, wasn't soothed by it. Instead, Spock prodded at the unwavering warmth and wondered deep inside if he was truly deserved it.

This anxiety was nothing foreign; he had faced the exact same unease when Jim and he had just begun their relationship. After all, James Kirk was a highly respected and sought after man. Being intelligent, charming, sociable, and not to mention physically appealing, the radiance which always surrounded him came from both inside and out. When he entered a room, all attention gravitated in his direction. When he spoke, everyone listened. His smile and laughter were infectious, his charisma incapable of neglect.

And what was Spock? Quiet, introverted, and serious. Incapable of demonstrating the necessary emotions that allowed others to feel he understood them and therefore establish rapport and friendships. He appeared cold and uncaring, oblivious to the feelings of everyone around him. But even through all of that, he himself could not fend off the magnetism of Jim Kirk, who had, for a reason Spock would never understand, picked him.

A Vulcan-human pairing was not exactly something that came easily; Spock knew that firsthand from watching his parents as he grew up. Cold and serious Ambassador Sarek had taken Amanda of Earth as his mate. It was clear they had a strong bond, if only because Amanda never left him. However, Spock could see his mother losing herself little by little over the years, affected by Sarek's intolerance to emotive _human_ behavior.

Spock could recall his mother spoiling him with his favorite meals and little trinkets from trips to the market. Sarek had always disapproved, citing such actions were humanizing their son who would certainly be raised Vulcan. As Spock grew older, he could see a significant change taking place within Amanda over the years. It wasn't that she appeared outwardly unhappy or no longer willing to be Sarek's mate; instead, for better or worse, she became more and more like him. It may have been for the sake of her own sanity.

Spock wondered what it was like for a human living amongst Vulcans, to never be told she was loved by either her husband or son, to be surrounded by an environment devoid of feeling. The empathy buried somewhere within him likened it to a mental prison. Deep down, he was forever frightened that it would be his own Vulcan heritage to dampen the fire raging in Jim's soul as it had Amanda's.

How many years had Spock spent caught in limbo with these thoughts, first saying he was undeserving of Jim's inexhaustible affection and next chiding himself for illogically being concerned with something the human never complained about? The push and pull would never end.

A soft chime played as the lift stopped. Spock's eyelashes parted and he walked through the open door, turning left.

“...Ambassador Spock?” called a calm voice from behind him. Spock stopped in place, turning his head to the side momentarily before about-facing. He found himself standing in front of a familiar middle-aged Vulcan woman wearing a blue uniform with her black hair pulled into a tight bun affixed to the back of her head. On her right breast was the emblem of the Vulcan Embassy.

“T'Rana,” Spock greeted her, raising his free hand into the ta'al.

She returned the gesture. “Ambassador, your arrival is both unexpected and convenient. The Embassy ordered me to relay a PADD chip to you. I had initially planned to give it to you when you arrived there on Monday, but seeing as you are here now, it would be most logical to not delay. May I have approximately three minutes and forty two seconds of your time?”

“You may,” agreed Spock, and began following her down the hall in the opposite direction of Jim's office. “It appears that your teaching role here has been quite productive. I recently perused your efficiency rating report.”

“I am honored, Ambassador. It is my intention to see that these cadets are proficient in the medical treatment of Vulcan anatomy and disease by the time of graduation.”

They turned the corner.

~

A large sigh was expelled through a pair of lips as the PADD slipped onto the dark cherry wood desk from Jim's fingers. He leaned backwards into his plush black chair, raising his palms to his tired eyes and rubbing at them. It had been such a long day... From the moment he walked in, he was met with a barrage of questions and conversations from cadets and academy staff alike. Jim was scheduled to deliver three different highly anticipated seminars to thousands of wide-eyed, eager students who positively clung to every last word that left his mouth.

Finally, after many long hours, he was able to escape to the peace and quiet of his neatly maintained office. Unlike other instructors, Jim's space was devoid of clutter. One side of his L-shaped desk was pushed against a wall of the room while shelves were meticulously arranged about the others. Displayed on them were different artifacts from his galactic travels and antique books made of real paper. A black cup full of styluses rested on the top of his desk and next to it, a small framed picture of Spock dressed in a red Captain's uniform.

Massaging his eyes in circular patterns, Jim stifled a yawn and attempted to ignore the growling of his stomach. They just wouldn't let him leave... He barely had time to use the men's room, never mind eat lunch. His hands dropped and he swiveled in his chair, looking out the bay window and taking in the sky. The last bit of sunlight was steadily disappearing on the horizon, bidding farewell to the busy city beneath it which now gleamed from artificial lighting.

Jim scratched at his neck and then ran a hand through his graying hair, his thoughts filled with excitement to see Spock. He closed his eyes momentarily and just smiled quietly to himself. They had been married and cohabitating for many long years. Even though Jim saw the Vulcan every day, he still hated to be away from him, even if it was just for a few hours. With the bond, they were never truly separated, but having his physical presence actually there made everything so much better than it already was. In any case, it wouldn't be much longer on that particular evening.

His hazel eyes opened again with that pleasant thought and Jim turned his chair back to his desk. He picked up the PADD and resumed reading through reviews by the attendees of his lectures. It looked like the academy would be begging him to come back yet again because not one negative comment could be found.

Suddenly, there were footsteps in the hall. Jim raised his chin and lowered the PADD back to the desk, expectantly looking at the entrance to see... a cadet's face appear as he peeked in. The young man knocked on the wall respectfully even though the door was open.

“Captain Kirk, can I come in?”

Jim knew himself well enough to know he might have been wearing an expression of disappointment across his features. To alleviate that, he smiled and replied, “Of course.” He raised his hand, towards two chairs on the opposite side of his desk and nodded his head urging, “Have a seat.”

The cadet's lips spread into a grin that almost seemed forced and entered the room, holding a PADD to his chest. He was wearing a gray on-duty uniform which popped against his mocha-colored skin. As he slipped into a chair, he held the device close to him with his spine erect.

“Sir, I finished processing the data from today's lectures as you asked. You can find the analytics on Star Server 09.”

Jim's eyebrows elevated, his head cocking to side slightly. “Everything? Already?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

Jim wore a soft expression, the corners of his lips pulling up gently. “Excellent job, Cadet Connor. It seems we can't give you work fast enough around here.”

“Y-yes, sir,” the young man repeated, his voice a little softer. “It's been a real pleasure interning with you, Captain. It's been nearly a year now.”

Spock's black attire stood out starkly against the lightly colored hallway as he headed back to Jim's office at the far end of the hall. From his position, he could see the door was open, but his acute hearing alerted him to the fact that the human was not alone.

“A year? Is that right?” Spock heard Jim ask.

Not wanting to interrupt official business, the Vulcan entered the conference room adjacent to Jim's office and slipped into a chair quietly.

“If I could do it all over again, I would,” Connor replied with dark green eyes focused intently on Jim. His shoulders were stiff and he almost seemed nervous.

Jim had immediately picked up on his anxiety when he had entered the room. It was out of character for the cadet, who was always so outgoing and charismatic. Now, he looked almost terrified.

“All right, Rick. What's going on?” Jim inquired, seriousness falling over his face.

Connor fidgeted slightly and looked off to the side. He opened his mouth and closed it. Jim squinted slightly, dipping his face to the side as if he were trying to read the young man.

Just as the Captain was about to inquire again, Connor's jaw squared and he turned to the man across from him, looking him straight in the eye.

“Captain,” he spoke and pulled the PADD slightly away from his chest with one hand. “This is crazy. But.”

From behind the device, he pulled a small red heart-shaped box of chocolates and placed it on the desk. He slid it in front of Jim, who only shifted his eyes on it and stared for a moment. An awkward silence persisted as Jim appeared to process what was happening before his face relaxed into a small laugh.

“You're kidding me right now!” Kirk said with amusement in his voice as he looked up at Connor again. “Tell me what deviant put you up to delivering chocolate to me? These guys and their sense of humor–”

“Please go to dinner with me!”

Any trace of amusement swept off Jim's face the very instant the cadet blurted out those words. He stared at the younger man across the desk, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. A flash of deep pink flushed across Connor's attractive face and ears as he intently stared at Jim.

Jim shook his head clear and then raised his eyes to the open door before quietly saying, “Ah...” He trailed off, shifting his gaze back to Connor. “...I'm married. Don't you know that?”

The cadet's resolve broke and he tore his eyes away. In a small voice, he replied, “...I– I do, Sir. It's just...”

Jim's face contorted as his eyes squinted, waiting for this man more than half his age to go on. He found himself doubting for a moment that he was actually awake.

“Well, you know how Vulcans are, Sir,” Connor continued. “They don't know how to show love. And sometimes I see you and think you're lonely. I mean, I've admired and had feelings for you for a long time and I...”

“Okay. No.” Jim cut him off with a shake of the head, his voice in a more authoritative tone. “Listen. I'm surprised and flattered, but you need to pick up your chocolate and go.”

Connor's mouth opened but Jim continued before he had the chance, a little softer now, “Go on. Get yourself out of here and we'll act like this never happened.”

A very awkward silence loomed in the atmosphere for far too long as both men stared at each other. Connor finally rose from his chair and quickly walked off, leaving the box on Jim's desk. The sound of his footsteps quickened as he apparently began running down the hallway until it was silent again.

Jim simply sat there motionlessly, until he finally asked out loud, “What the _hell_ was that?”

His eyes shifted to the chronometer and his dumbfounded feeling shifted to worry. Where was Spock? He was never late. Reaching into his pocket, he thumbed through his comm and tapped on Spock's name to initiate a call. There was no response.

Spock, sitting in the next room over, felt his comm vibrating in his pocket. However, he was incapable of answering it. A hand was clasped over his mouth, his eyes angled down to the table. While his face was as blank as usual, his mind churned in overdrive.

“Spock,” he heard Jim say from the other room, apparently leaving him a message. “It's me. I'm just wondering where you are. When you get this, call or message me. Okay? See you soon.”

The Vulcan didn't move as thoughts fired across his mind. Even young cadets were willing to put their careers on the line and risk everything for Jim's affection. Jim had turned him down, but how many more would it take to approach him until he'd say yes? After all, they weren't incapable of expressing emotion or blurting out their feelings or buying chocolate for Valentine's Day.

He felt Jim reaching for him through their bond but shielded himself, unwilling to reveal what might be a scattered string of unwarranted thoughts.

“ _Well, you know how Vulcans are, Sir. They don't know how to show love. And sometimes I see you and think you're lonely._ ”

...Perhaps they weren't so unwarranted after all. Perhaps, Spock had been correct in thinking that he didn't do enough to make Jim completely happy. He hadn't denied what the cadet said. Had this really been a one-sided relationship all along that Jim was just putting up with for the sake of the bond? Was Jim just like Amanda, remaining imprisoned for dignity or, even worse, pity?

Spock closed his eyes, trying to focus and make sense of all the thoughts flooding him.

Humans needed an outpouring of constant love. Humans needed coddling. Humans needed gifts, public displays of affection, and constant reassurance. Humans needed things that Spock simply could not offer.

He once again thought about his mother sitting quietly by herself staring out a window, how he never held Jim's hand in public, that a young cadet bought the chocolate he should have... When his eyelashes parted, he found himself considering if the disadvantages outweighed the benefits in their relationship for Jim.

After all, Jim provided many things – selfless things – to Spock that he hadn't even known he needed or wanted; he had hardly ever experienced unconditional love, understanding, or empathy before they met. These gifts needled themselves into Spock and, without him even realizing it, stitched together a soul bearing deep scars from being a child of two worlds. Spock had traveled all over the galaxy and in all of his journeys, there was only one place where he ever truly fit in: Jim's arms.

But fitting in them so perfectly meant Jim was addressing all of Spock's needs, rendering him unable to do the same in return. Satisfying a Vulcan lifestyle meant surrendering certain aspects of a human one. Just how much was Jim missing out on because of this?

Spock's comm vibrated again in his pocket. He stared down at the table for a moment before quieting the thoughts banging around the corners of his mind and standing. With the typical deadpan expression never leaving his face and wine tucked under his arm, he exited the conference room and appeared in the doorway of Jim's office.

“Spock! There you are!” the human exclaimed, wearing traces of apprehension across his features as he stood up. “Is everything okay?”

Spock's chin was raised, his face still inexpressive. He was deliberately looking at Jim and not letting his gaze wander. “Pardon my delay. I met T'Rana in the hallway. She requested I briefly visit her office to collect a microchip from the Vulcan Embassy.”

Immediately, Jim's face softened as a warm smile spread across his lips. “Well good! Because I haven't eaten all day and I'm starving.” His eyes fell to the bottle. “Thanks so much for picking up the wine.”

“It did not veer me drastically off course,” Spock replied, watching his bondmate take his warm coat off a hook. The human just grinned at his unnecessarily wordy manner of saying “you're welcome.” He loved it, though, and had always loved it. That was one of many charms Spock had.

As Jim slipped into his coat, the Vulcan could no longer keep his eyes from drifting down to the small package on his desk, heart-shaped and wrapped in red cellophane. His eyebrows twitched just slightly as he peered at the offending object.

The action didn't go unnoticed by Jim. “Oh boy,” he said with a huff, wrapping a gray scarf around his neck. “I have a story to tell you about that.”

No reply came from Spock. The human tucked his PADD into his messenger bag, slipped it over his shoulder, and walked towards the Vulcan. Jim shut the lights off as he exited and locked the door. Smiling at Spock, he said, “Let's go!”

They quietly made their way down the lift and through the lobby. Once they stepped outside, Jim immediately adjusted his scarf to sit better on his neck and shoulders, remarking, “Wow, it's colder than usual. Are you sure you're going to be okay walking?”

“I am able to walk,” Spock plainly confirmed.

Jim stared at him momentarily, as if he were about to speak. Spock was usually serious and reserved, but, as a direct result of spending decades together, the human could recognize even the slightest hint indicating that something was off. Tonight, the way in which Spock carried himself was different, but Jim couldn't identify exactly how, why, or what it even meant.

He wondered if he should suggest just eating dinner at home, but decided to continue with their current plan. If he erroneously made a large deal out of something that was actually nothing, it would be more troublesome for Spock than it was all worth. With that in mind, Jim said, “Well, let's head out then.”

The pair set off into the chilly evening, side by side but not touching.

~

“...And that's when I told him the whole point of space exploration isn't to sleep with _every_ non-Terran you run into. I'm not sure where this reputation of mine comes from,” Jim said with a laugh as they turned the corner. “Cadets these days are more outspoken than ever. I mean, can you imagine asking that in front of hundreds of people? Takes balls, though, just liking captaining does so I humored him.”

He had been recapping the events from his seminars as they walked, Spock silently listening at his side. Jim stole a glance up at him over his shoulder when he didn't receive a response and his smile faded. He was sure he'd get some sort of rise out of Spock from that last one, but the Vulcan kept his eyes to the pavement, seemingly lost in speculation.

Jim turned his attention back in the direction before him and began to wonder just what was distracting Spock's thoughts; even when the Vulcan was involved in solving a complex problem with the science team or facing a diplomatic crisis, he always had the ability to multitask his concentration. However, from the moment he entered his office back at the academy, Spock looked displaced.

Gently, Jim nudged at their bond, but received no response. Spock was shielding? Worry wrote its way across Jim's face as he began to wonder if he had overheard the bizarre conversation with Cadet Connor. The human turned his face to the side slightly. No, that couldn't have been it. Spock would never get jealous. Besides envy going against his Vulcan nature, he had no reason to be.

Both consumed by their own thoughts, they suddenly found themselves at the entrance of a small restaurant. It was a quaint Mediterranean establishment with the charm of centuries ago and even had a manual door. Jim's hand fell upon the handle and he stepped inside.

“Captain Kirk, Ambassador Spock, good evening,” the host greeted them warmly before leading both men to a table in the corner. The atmosphere was cozy with dim lighting, old décor, and a candle lit on each table. Jim and Spock frequently chose this location as it was accessed on a side street with little foot or vehicle traffic, rendering it quieter than most places. However, being the only two patrons in the restaurant at that particular time might have been more detrimental than pleasing.

Their coats were taken and they sunk into plush chairs. Instantly, a waiter came to them and, without even asking, set down a cup of tea before Spock. He then proceeded to open Jim's wine. While he stabbed at the cork, he made small talk. “As always, it's great to see you. Out celebrating Valentine's Day?”

Jim watched as red liquid was poured into a deep glass that gleamed against the soft lighting. He flickered his eyes up and offered a small smile. “Ah, no... Just here for a good meal.”

The server placed the wine bottle on the table and said, “Well, we're happy to oblige! Your usual, or something different?”

“The usual for me,” Jim replied and then glanced over at Spock.

“I also opt to not modify my routine order,” the Vulcan responded. It was the first thing he had said of substance since they left the academy.

“Very well, gentlemen. I'll have that out for you shortly,” replied the waiter, collecting the untouched menus and taking his leave.

Jim watched him take off across the room and then adjusted his view to Spock, the inner corners of his eyebrows slightly elevated. Spock's gaze was affixed to his cup of tea. He looked almost uncomfortable, at least for a Vulcan anyway.

“Spock,” Jim spoke just above a whisper, leaning forward as his hands gripped the edge of the table.

Spock's eyes rose to see the concern across Jim's face as he pressed with a slight shake of his head, “What's wrong?”

The Vulcan lifted his chin, carefully keeping his expression neutral as he replied vaguely, “My thoughts were focused on a particular subject.”

“What were you thinking about?”

Spock's gaze tore away from Jim's and settled back on his tea. “I would prefer to not discuss it.” There was a pause. “Please, continue with your summary of today's seminars.”

Jim leaned back in his chair, staring at the man across from him who kept his own sights upon the table. Spock denying him information and, more frighteningly, access to his side of their bond was clearly a valid reason for unease. He wanted so badly to push the issue, but held his words to himself; it wasn't the correct time or venue and the last thing he wanted was to force Spock into a corner – especially in public. If only he'd suggested to just go home for dinner...

Jim remained silent for several moments until the Vulcan blinked and allowed his dark eyes to wander up and meet hazel ones when he didn't hear a response.

“Uh,” the human began, raising his eyebrows, trying to pick up from where he left off earlier. He would have more to say if the situation were different. “Well, I basically recapped everything on the way over. I mean, the reviews all came in positive and I'm sure the academy is going to want me to deliver more large audience lectures. ...That's basically it.”

“You are an asset and appreciated by all.” It was a drab, canned response.

Jim looked down at the table for a moment before he shook his head again and said, “Look, Spock, I...”

His words were interrupted by the bell above the door jingling. Another couple entered, hand-in-hand. The host led them across the restaurant and sat them several tables away from Jim and Spock, but they were close enough to be within earshot.

Jim's gaze slid to the pair before he dismissively said, “Never mind.”

His instinct guided him to withdraw his comm then and scroll through messages in an attempt to alleviate the looming awkwardness. In reality, it wasn't entirely effective but it was better than blankly staring at his laconic bondmate.

They ate their meal in silence.

~

Jim briskly walked through the wintery night with his hands stuffed into his pockets and breath visible before his lips. Even for the middle of February, it was uncharacteristically cold in San Francisco but his mind was far away from that. Beside him was Spock, matching his pace. No further words had been exchanged.

Spock's head was angled down as he maintained his silence. It wasn't that he didn't want to speak to Jim; rather, it had everything to do with his lifelong inability to voice his thoughts related to personal relationships. Naturally, he couldn't ignore the look of apprehension Jim wore across his handsome face, but at the same time, he had no idea regarding what to say or how to proceed.

As the door to their condo building swished open, Spock realized that what he wished to avoid wound up happening after all: His reticence – a Vulcan trait – caused Jim unease. The human was clearly upset because of his actions (or lack, thereof), and he was unable to do anything to rectify the situation.

Jim deserved better than that.

They rode the lift to the twenty third floor and walked the few steps to the doorway of their condo. Jim laid his fingertips upon a scanner and then tapped in a number code. The door slid open and Spock entered first. Jim followed and as soon as it slid closed behind him, the predictable occurred.

“Okay, Spock,” Jim said, dropping his messenger bag. “What's going on?”

Spock kept walking, making no movement to remove his coat or scarf. He quickly strode through their living room toward his study. He had to restore the equilibrium to everything in his mind immediately; it was his only way of stabilizing the situation. Jim was on his heels.

“I must meditate,” Spock announced without stopping or looking back.

“What? Are you out of your mind?!” Jim quickened his pace and reached out, grabbing Spock's arm. With a little force, he turned him around and pushed his back into the beige wall. Both hands latched onto his shoulders as his hazel eyes glared into his bondmate's. “You've ignored me all night. You shielded from me. And now you're just going to go meditate without telling me what's going on?”

Spock pulled his gaze away, turning his entire head.

“Spock, talk to me!” Jim pulled his shoulders forward and then pushed them back in a stiff shake, coaxing the Vulcan to look at him again. “What the hell is going on? Did I do something?”

The Vulcan's eyes squinted slightly as he replied calmly, “Jim, please. Let me meditate first. Allow me this.”

Jim's face hardened as his lips pulled taut for a moment, digits tightening their grasp on his coat-padded arms. “Oh, I see. So you're going to spend all night meditating while _I'm_ unable to sleep because I'm worried about _you_. That's just great. Just grea–”

“Jim, _please_ ,” Spock rasped out, effectively interrupting him. “Please,” he repeated. “Understand that I am currently incapable of explaining what I am thinking.” He shook his head as he went on, “I cannot speak to you right now.”

The human continued to stare into his eyes, his shoulders rising and falling with deep inhales. Suddenly, his digits slowly slipped down the arms they grasped. He took Spock's right hand and brought it halfway up between their chests, his expression softening as he said, “Then show me.”

Spock's shoulders rose as he stiffened slightly, his eyebrows hardly knitting down in what could have been a look of consternation. He shook his head again. “Jim, I do not think–”

“ _Spock._ ” Though Jim had emphasized his name, his voice was just above a whisper. He leaned his face forward and squeezed the hand between his own. “Let me help you.”

The Vulcan stared down into his bondmate's hazel eyes which were rife with emotions. He felt his barriers faltering as they always did when it came to sharing his gaze, nearly enchanted by how Jim could convey the fathomlessness of his feelings with his eyes alone. Within them, Spock saw unwavering love and compassion, concern and desire to comfort.

He owed Jim an answer and Spock realized that answer had to be given at the current moment. If he spent the night in meditation as he always did, he would quell the uncertainty clouding his mind and ignore it in the morning as if it had never even been there. He would bury his questions and doubt and deny their existences until they resurfaced at another point in the future. The cycle would repeat itself until the end of his time.

Spock realized that if he confessed these thoughts, the admission could negatively affect their ability to be together. Perhaps, by finally making them known, Jim would also agree that their relationship was one-sided and not mutually beneficial. Perhaps, he would leave. Whatever the outcome, though, Spock owed him this. If walking away from their life together was what it took to ultimately fulfill Jim's needs... Spock was selfless enough to let him go. After all, Jim had already spent years and years altruistically fulfilling the Vulcan's own.

Straightening his spine, Spock stared at Jim hesitantly for a moment, and then slowly elevated the hand he held. Jim never let go of it, one set of fingers wrapping around the Vulcan palm and another gingerly about his wrist as the pads of Spock's digits settled on his psi points.

Spock's eyelashes fell as he closed his eyes, tilting his head to the side and reciting the traditional Vulcan phrase that would commence a mind meld. As he spoke, Jim's own eyes shut and when the words were fully spoken, their minds were one.

Moments passed before the slender Vulcan hand deftly slipped from Jim's face and Spock's eyes slowly opened. He gazed down at his bondmate who hadn't moved a millimeter since the meld initiated. Several seconds passed by before Jim's lungs released the breath he held. Still without opening his eyes, the human fell forward, his forehead crashing into Spock's shoulder.

Spock remained still after he felt the thud of his husband's forehead hitting into him, his vision still remaining where Jim's face had just been. He heard a huff expelled from the human's lips and then felt his shoulders rise and fall once. Then again. And suddenly, a staccato sound graced his pointed ears.

Confusedly, Spock moved his face slightly to look down at Jim, his chin bumping into the human's hair.

“Ahaha! Hahahahaha!!” Jim laughed, as he began rubbing back and forth against Spock's shoulder, shaking his head.

“...Jim?” Spock asked, his deep voice reverberating from the back of his throat. This reaction was certainly not what he expected.

The human lifted his head then, his eyes slightly wet from laughter and a smile plastered across his face. He looked at Spock and raised his hands, taking the Vulcan face within his palms.

“Spock. You don't fulfill my needs? You don't make me happy? Jesus, I'm just _putting up_ with you?” A small laugh fell from Jim's lips again. “You're worried you don't give me enough. Well, let me tell you something. Thirty two years ago, I was given the greatest gift that I ever received. It was you, on my ship, as my science officer.”

Spock stared into Jim's eyes, his own narrowing further in consternation but he said nothing.

“And then we got closer and as the time went by, I realized... I found my soulmate. Every day that I spend with you is like receiving that gift again and again.” Jim gently shook Spock's face. “Don't you get it? I love you. I love everything _about_ you. And despite the expectations of your heritage, you give me all of your love in return. How could that not make me the happiest man in the universe?!”

“Then, you are truly satisfied even though I do not physically show affection for you in public?” Spock questioned, his brows raising slightly as he shook his head. “Even though I do not participate in the traditions of Terran holidays and cannot speak freely about emotion as Terrans do?”

“Yes, Spock!” Jim urged, his hands slipping back down to his shoulders. “I don't care about any of that. I love you for who you are, your differences, what you stand for. All of it. I wouldn't trade you for anyone else, not some young twenty something at the academy, not anyone. I actually can't believe I need to tell you this after all of these years.”

The Vulcan hesitated in thought. “It is not that I find your display of affection inadequate. Rather, I have always found myself entirely unable to understand what exactly it is that you love about me.”

Jim bumped his lips into Spock's in a quick kiss. Instead of pulling his mouth back, he slipped it across his bondmate's cheek and up to his ear in which he purred, “Then let me show you.”

~

“Hey,” Jim said softly into Spock's ear and nudged the top of his head with his cheek. They had been lying on the bed for some time after their hearts began beating at a normal pace and breathing regulated once more.

Dark eyes opened and Spock shifted so he could look up at Jim but never unwrapped his arms from the human's torso. “Yes, Jim?”

“I hate to ask this but... Can we get up? I need you to do something for me.”

“Very well,” Spock agreed and the two disentangled from each other's arms sliding off opposite sides of the bed. Spock quickly donned his black tunic and trousers while Jim slipped into a burgundy robe. He led Spock out into the living room.

“What is it that you need me to do?” the Vulcan asked, pulling the bottom of his tunic down out of old habit.

Jim wandered over to where he dropped his messenger bag earlier and retrieved it. He unlatched the flap and opened it, reaching in and procuring a small item. It was a rectangular shaped object wrapped in pearly white paper that was long but not wide.

“Accept this,” Jim said with a smile as he handed it over to Spock.

Perplexed, Spock looked from the small package to his bondmate's face. Jim extended his arm forward again, insisting he take it.

Slender Vulcan digits grasped the object and Spock looked down at it. It was very light and comfortably fit in his hands.

“Well, go on,” Jim urged, beaming. “Open it!”

Spock's pointer finger slipped beneath the neat strip of tape near the package's top edge. Carefully, he slid it back across, the tape splitting from the paper it attached to and opening one side to provide access to the contents within. He reached inside and pulled out a thin book colored dark navy blue with no wording on the outside.

The Vulcan quickly looked up at Jim before he opened it. On the inside cover was a handwritten message:

_To Spock,_

“ _It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done.”_

_Happy Valentine's Day._

_Love,  
Jim_

Spock turned to the first page and was met with a picture of Jim and himself on board the Enterprise printed there. It was taken just before the five year mission commenced; they looked so young and vibrant, ready to take on everything that they would encounter in their travels.

He turned the page and found another picture, and then another. Jim joined him, leaning into his arm as he looked through the book of photographs, cataloging memories progressing in chronological order. On the second to last page was a photo they had taken just two weeks ago. The last page was white.

“I intentionally left it blank,” Jim said, his hand taking hold of Spock's arm. “Because the story doesn't end there.”

Spock closed the book and held it tightly in both hands as he turned to his bondmate. “Jim,” he began, his voice soft and eyebrows raising momentarily. “...Thank you.”

The human just smiled up at him.

“I regret to say that I have nothing to give you in return, though,” Spock continued.

“You do,” the human insisted. “You always do. You give me your love, and that's all I want.”

 

“ _You give me your love, and that's all I want._ ”

 

Spock raised a hand and slipped his digits up one of Jim's sideburns, then stroking behind his ear. He spoke suddenly. “Forgive me, Jim. There is work I must tend to in my study before I sleep.”

“You work too much!” Jim chided in return with a small laugh, but then winked at him. “Don't be too late.”

~

The morning sun stretched across the bedroom little by little until the space was filled with light. Sleepy hazel eyes squeezed together before they opened, accompanied by a full yawn. Jim's vision was blurry at first as he stared out at the closet before he blinked and then turned around quickly to see if Spock was in bed.

Finally! The Vulcan laid beside him in a deep sleep. Jim had woken up several times during the night, reaching out for Spock to find his side empty; whatever he was working on in his study kept him up to some ungodly hour. Jim just hoped whatever he was doing was worth it. Probably more embassy business, as usual.

The human pushed himself up, the warm blanket slipping off of his bare chest. He rolled his neck, cracking it, and then swung his legs over the side.

That's when it caught his eye.

A small ring box and a folded piece of paper rested on his bedside table. Jim's face contorted in confusion and he looked over his shoulder at Spock, who hadn't stirred. Taking the note in his hand, he opened it and saw neat handwriting that almost looked like printed letters.

_Jim,_

_As I looked through the photograph book you provided to me, I realized there were many pleasing memories included within. However, the book itself is not large enough to contain all of the ones I can recall. I argue that no book or container of practical size could; however, in this box, I have added just a few more._

_Spock_

Jim lifted his head, squinting as he lowered the paper to his lap. He looked at the tiny box and picked it up, opening the top carefully. Though it was, in fact, a velvet ring box, no jewelry was inside. Instead, Jim found a stack of tiny rectangular pieces of paper. The first one had something handwritten on it.

_Remember when..._

He removed it and saw the next little piece which was also handwritten.

_we shared a “flop”_

Jim's mouth opened slightly and he looked at the next one.

_we were trapped in the lift for 2.3 hours_

And the next.

_you accidentally discovered Vulcan hand sensitivity_

He shuffled through what may have been close to three hundred small pieces of paper, meticulously cut the same size. Each had one memory written on it. When he reached the second to the last, he closed his eyes as his lips pulled into a taut line. He sat there on the edge of the bed just like that for several moments.

When he finally opened his eyes again, the corners of his mouth eased upward into a smile.

The sheet he held read:

_I gave you a box filled with my love_

The last piece was blank.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>   
>  ~ This awesome edit was done by my amazing friend, [thesadchicken](http://thesadchicken.tumblr.com)!  
> 
> 
>   
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> A huge special thank you to:  
> \- My wonderful beta readers, Carter and Scotty  
> \- My neverending source of support: Selma  
> \- My buddy Akai for letting me bounce ideas off of her
> 
> Hang out with me! [tumblr](http://plaidshirtjimkirk.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TOSCaptainKirk) | [KSA](http://ksarchive.com/viewuser.php?uid=12451) | [Wordpress](http://plaidshirtjimkirk.wordpress.com) | [Pinterest](http://www.pinterest.com/cptjameskirk/)
> 
> Got feedback you'd like to share but don't want to leave it here? Drop a line to plaidshirtjimkirk@gmail.com.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek. This piece is purely a work of fiction and I am not profiting from it in any way. I do not consent to my work being reposted or reuploaded, in full or in part, to any other website without my permission.


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